Crucio Butterfly
by sodalite
Summary: A butterfly flaps its wings and causes a hurricane on the other side of the world. A four-year-old child makes a decision that could alter everything we know, to speak one word is to irreversibly change destiny, forever. Sirius Black, what might have been
1. Prologue

**Welcome to my very first fic! I was given the idea for writing Crucio Butterfly whilst thinking about fate, and how one single incident, in a split second can completely alter the course of the future. I then got to thinking about Sirius and how he could have been a Slytherin, and all the complex consequences of that.  
  
The prologue below is separate to the rest of the fic and is PoV "Real" Sirius – it is also shorter than what the rest of the chapters will be. I may consider using some of the events in the prologue in a separate fic when I have finished Crucio Butterfly so don't steal them or anything :P  
  
I am uncertain as to how often I will update – I tend to write quite sporadically, but should update on average once a week.  
  
So scroll down and read on!  
  
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Disclaimer: All characters, places, HP universe related stuff is based upon the world created by JK Rowling and is NOT MINE!  
  
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"It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."  
  
Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Crucio Butterfly – Prologue  
  
I had forgotten about that, the Black family tree on the wall in the drawing room. I hesitate to say my family tree; they weren't my family, not really. I guess in that respect I don't have any family at all, but that isn't really true. I had Gryffindor, the Marauders. We were the greatest of friends, laughing together, playing pranks together, running through the school on the night of the full moon, wolf, rat, dog and stag; Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. We never thought to be separated, the innocence of our youth kept us together until the end, an end that would not come until we were insane old men. There are only two of us left now, Moony and Padfoot, last of the Marauders, which sounds terribly over-dramatic, but it's true. I have Harry, as much of a son to me as anyone could be. Molly accused me of mistaking him for James, but then she never really knew James, of course as sixth year Gryffindor prefect she knew all about those mischievous Gryffindor first years who had doused Slytherin first year Severus Snape in soap on the second day. We had become famous for it, our first act as the Marauders, despite the fact it would be another year until we took that name. Molly never spent time with James though, not like I did, she would never understand that I could never place Harry in the hole James left behind. Just as though I know Harry would never try to replace James with me. They _are_ alike, Harry and James, in more than looks, that courage, that talent for trouble and Quidditch can only have been hereditary. Harry has his mother's eyes though, a fact I know he is sick of hearing, but I find it ironic that the eyes are the window to the soul. Harry is so much like his mother, more than he ever realises, so loving, so compassionate, and intelligent, not in the same way as Hermione, but logical and quick to understand a situation. It hurts me sometimes, watching him become the man Lily and James would have been so proud of.  
  
I don't regret leaving my blood family, I could have stayed with them, allowed myself to be moulded to their beliefs, but with them I would have been without the Marauders. Without the Marauders I could have been a free man. I could have been given back twelve years of stolen life, but I'd never have the memories I do now, memories of four boys standing shaking in the line to be sorted, four boys on their first night at Hogwarts, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the feast and the castle, soaring above the Quidditch field, standing together on the platform for the last time, watching memories of seven years fade away into the past. I wouldn't give those up for anything.  
  
I think that, at some point, my parents must have loved me, or at least, they must have accepted me, I can't really see my mother being particularly affectionate to anyone, but I don't really remember. What I do remember though, with crystal clarity, is my mother's first lesson in 'how to be a Black', a memory that still, after more than thirty years, sickens me to the core.  
  
It was a crisp autumn day, I remember because I had been sitting on the window ledge of the drawing room, watching the leaves outside blow gently in the breeze. Two muggle children, no more than six or seven, were scooping up handfuls of dry brown leaves and throwing them at each other, their muffled laughter echoed up through the window and I wished with all my heart that I could join them. I knew the girls didn't live here in Grimmauld place, hours spent sitting alone at this window meant I knew everyone who lived here. I thought I recognised them, though, as the same two children who visited the old lady at number six last Christmas, her grandchildren, I assumed. Suddenly, the younger of the two, who on closer inspection seemed to be around my age, looked straight at me and waved. I stared, the older, blond girl did too but I suspect she thought her companion had gone mad, waving at the blank wall joining number eleven with number thirteen. I sat up against the window, still staring at the girl in shock before tentatively waving back, she laughed and waved again. A noise from behind made me turn sharply.  
  
"What are you doing, Sirius?" My mother's voice was cold, even more so than usual, instead of awaiting an answer she strode over to the window and looked out into the street, where the two girls had resumed their game. The look on her face when she turned back round was one of pure anger and hate, though I was uncertain who it was directed at, I didn't think it could be all me. "What on earth did you think you were doing, Sirius Black? Waving at muggles, you should know better than that, and I don't care that they can't see the house, you are a Black, Sirius, you do not associate with scum anymore than you befriend the house elves."  
  
"She's not." My voice had dropped to a shaky whisper; I had befriended one of the house elves and most definitely did not want to see my mother's reaction when she discovered that.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The red-head, she's not a muggle, she waved at me." The icy expression on my mother's face made me hurry on, "You said only wizards could see our house, and the girl saw it, she waved at me. The blonde one didn't, though, she looked at her sister as though she was mad."  
  
The look on my mother's face was now completely unreadable, as though she was unsure what to do next, she stared out of the window at the muggle and the red-haired witch, finally she pulled out her wand, I flinched instinctively; I had seen what my mother could do with a wand when she was angry. She did not point it at me, though, "Accio butterfly, Engorgio." The now enlarged butterfly was held by one wing in my mother's free right hand, it was a beautiful thing, a swirl of colour decorated its free wing, every line and shade visible now that it was enlarged. I must have looked bemused because my mother then said, "I have put this off for far too long, my son, I am beginning your lessons in how to be a respectable member of the Black family."  
  
I nodded firmly; I had expected this day to come, my older cousin, Bellatrix, often spoke of her lessons, though she refused to give details of what she learned, I had asked her, more than once, but the last time that had happened she had run to my mother who put a silencing charm on me and refused to remove it for a week saying it was 'none of your business what Bellatrix is taught and you will know when you are old enough'. My mother held out the butterfly and raised her wand towards it, "You may consider this an introduction, a test of faith, shall we say, before you begin your true studies. _Crucio_." The butterfly began twitching violently, I stared at it in horrified fascination, certain that if it could, it would have been screaming. After several long seconds my mother lowered her wand, the butterfly lay limp in her hands, still twitching slightly.  
  
"Now," my mother's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife through butter, "Your turn." She held out her wand and I took it in shaking hands, "Just raise the wand at the butterfly and say the word, I do not expect you to succeed, but I expect you to be willing to succeed." My mind froze then, as I realised what she was asking me to do, I stared uncertainly at the wand in my hand, "Just say the word." My mother whispered in my ear, and I could, I could just have said it, have succumbed to my mothers will, she was so certain I would, and accepted the training she was to give me, but then a face danced before my eyes, a small red-haired child waving up at the window, so young and innocent, I saw the dying beauty of the butterfly still twitching in my mother's fingers. How could I cause harm to something so free and innocent? My mother's words taunted me, I knew I would never be forgiven if I disobeyed, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to do that, to destroy the innocent. I let the wand fall to the floor.  
  
"No" I whispered.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"No!"  
  
It still frightens me now to think what might have happened if I had done it, chosen what was easy over what was right, I was beaten by my mother that night and locked in my room without any food, but I didn't care, I knew in my heart what I had chosen was right.  
  
It was from that day onwards that I was not really a part of the Black family, my mother refused to teach me so I would sneak into the library and steal books to read, I would join the house elves in the kitchen and sit in the airing cupboard reading. She asked me twice more in the following weeks to do what she had asked of me that day, but I had refused once, I could do it again. I sent Mindy, the youngest of the elves, to whom I had taken a particular liking, to the Potter family with a letter requesting notes from their son, James' lessons. The Potters were one of those treacherous families who had all been in Gryffindor for at least twelve generations, and in the view of my mother, a disgrace to the name of wizard, naturally I had never met them. It was this, more than anything, which led me to believe that what they taught their son would be less biased than what I would otherwise have got from my mother. The Potters were nice to me, which was more than I expected especially as I was from the Black family, which was on a level with the Malfoys, they sent owls to me at night, when no-one else would know. I wrote to their only son, James nearly every day from the age of eight, although I didn't meet him until we boarded the Hogwarts express, three years later, when I crashed into him in my hurry to find the platform.  
  
I could have said yes, I could have raised that wand and said '_Crucio_', if I did it once I'd be able to do it again, and every time it would have become easier, more natural, I could have been brought up a respectable member of the Black family, if I had just said one word.  
  
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**So that's it...Please review and tell me what you think! Cookies for any who can figure out who the 'Muggle' children are (really very obvious!!!)**  
  
Next chapter – The beginning of the Story Proper - Sirius Black's first day in Slytherin! 


	2. Slytherin House

**Welcome to Chapter 1 of Crucio Butterfly!! I am so sorry to take this long! I really am...I just got so busy with college and stuff I just haven't had time. This is still unbeta-ed but I thought I'd let you have it anyway just for making you wait so long....:P Reviewer responses are at the bottom **

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**Disclaimer: All characters, places, HP universe related stuff is based upon the world created by JK Rowling and is NOT MINE!**

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**Summary: A butterfly flaps its wings and causes a hurricane on the other side of the world. A four-year-old child makes a decision that could alter everything we know, to speak one word is to irreversibly change destiny, forever. A story of Sirius Black, what might have been.**

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Crucio Butterfly – Chapter 1 

_The small black-haired child stared uncertainly at the wand in his hand, his mother crouched beside him holding something that resembled a giant butterfly, leaning forwards so that her dark hair, so much like her son's, hung across her face, she whispered in his ear, "Just say the word." Uncertainty clouded the boy's eyes; he knew what he was being asked to do. His dark gaze flickered to the window, where, just minutes earlier, he had been watching two children playing with the fallen Autumn leaves, and almost instantly back to the butterfly in his mother's hand. _

_Indecision painted his features, one could almost see the thoughts running through his head, he didn't want to do it, didn't want to say the word that would harm something so free and innocent, but it was clear he feared his mother, feared what he might do to her if he refused. The moment seemed to stretch for hours, the boy's mother watched him intently, hopefully. He raised the wand._

"_Crucio."_

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_Dearest Mother,_

_So it's official, I am the newest member of Slytherin house, not that I am surprised, of course, it was to be expected. Peter was also sorted into Slytherin house (which does surprise me - I was certain he'd be a Hufflepuff - perhaps he bribed the hat into putting him into the same house as me). Our fellow Slytherin first-years are Severus Snape, Evan Rosier, Rabastan Lestrange, Isabelle Malfoy, Jasmine Rookwood, Saphina Avery, Mirabella Jugson and of course, cousin Narcissa, all, I think you will agree, from respectable families. What was a real surprise was Saphina's twin brother, Matrim, being sorted into Gryffindor, he received a rather nasty howler about that this morning, as did Alfie Wilkes, who also ended up in Gryffindor. Saphina was, understandably, most upset that her brother had become a traitor; I understand the other girls had to spend most of the night calming her down._

_I shared a cabin with Severus on the Hogwarts express and I can almost definitely say that we will become close friends, he is a most interesting person, and his knowledge of the noble arts is even greater than my own. The Slytherin common room is every bit as amazing as Bella described, of course I doubt it's altered much since you were a student, very sophisticated and elegant, perfectly suited to the high calibre of students in this house. If the Slytherin common room reflects on the superiority of its residents, then I dread to imagine what the Gryffindor common room must look like, I currently envisage something terrible gaudy, though I haven't had a chance to verify that as yet. I have already made, shall we say, acquaintance with three of its members, an arrogant boy by the name of James Potter (which of course made me see very clearly why the Potter family is of an infinitely lower class), his tag-along, a sickly looking child he calls Remus, and a mudblood girl named Lily, who had the nerve to try to join myself and Severus in our compartment, of course as soon as we realised what she was we covered her with a variety of hexes and threw her out._

_Our head of House, who apparently teaches Potions, Professor Malfoy, seems to be quite nice – at least to her own students (she took 10 points from Gryffindor after the feast last night because James Potter smiled – most amusing)._

_I can only say, that on meeting him, Dumbledore is the epitaph of Gryffindor values, which is quite a shame, Hogwarts has clearly been lacking since the unfortunate death of Great-great-grandfather Phineas – it really is quite a shame he accidentally poisoned himself with his "Elixir of Life". I have not met any of the other teachers as I write this, however I am sure that by the end of the week I will be able to tell you which are respectable and which are not._

_We have Transfiguration first thing this morning, and though Professor McGonagall is head of Gryffindor (and so not worthy of respect, at least behind her back), she seems to me to be rather strict and will be unlikely to accept that a Slytherin student is late for class because they were writing to their mother. I also have to find the classroom, which, as I understand it, is three floors below the owlery._

_Say hello to Regulus for me, and please ensure he doesn't decide to practice the killing curse on my owl, I have grown rather fond of her._

_With love,_

_Your son, Sirius. Toujours Pur._

Sirius Black hastily stuffed his quill and ink back into his bag and sealed the parchment on which he had just been writing, "Mirror!" he called softly to a large eagle owl perched on a rafter near the ceiling of the owlery, she flew down to his outstretched arm with unmatchable grace. Sirius tied the letter to his owl's leg and carried her to the window, where she took off from his arm and soared into the clear morning sky. For a few moments he watched as the owl grew smaller and smaller, flying into the distance, before turning to face the tall, slender boy leaning casually against the door of the owlery.

Severus Snape was someone Sirius had never met before yesterday, despite coming from a respectable pureblood family. Although Severus could never be described as handsome in the same way that Sirius could, with his pale skin, large nose and slightly greasy hair, Sirius had found his icy demeanour and cynicism intriguing, and determined to learn more about this dark, silent boy. Somehow Severus managed to look as imposing in his Hogwarts robes as when he had boarded the Hogwarts express in long black robes that were almost an exact replica of those his father had worn. When he mentioned this however Severus had become stony silent and Sirius did not press the matter.

"We had better go," Severus' words startled Sirius out of his reverie, "no need to be losing points on the first day."

"Indeed." Sirius' response elicited a slight smirk from his dark haired companion. They both turned and walked out of the door, coming face to face with a short, skinny looking boy with messy black hair. Sirius and Severus exchanged identical, knowing looks.

"Well, well, if it isn't Gryffindor's newest pet Potter." Severus spoke in a lazy drawl, as though nothing in the world mattered at all, it was amusing to watch.

"Shut it, greasy Slytherin git." Sirius thought that Potter's response would have been far more impressive if he hadn't been shaking in fear.

"Ohh I'm scared!" Sirius backed away in mock fear, whilst Severus laughed. Potter pointed his wand at Severus and made to hex him, but Sirius was quicker.

"Rictusempra!"

To the Gryffindor's credit he did not allow himself to be entirely defeated by a single curse, instead, though struggling to remain upright, pointing his wand at Sirius and shouting, "Tarantallegra!" Potter barely had time to smirk as Sirius' legs began to tap dance out of control.

"Reducio!" Potter's expression turned to one of shock as he began to shrink, finally coming to rest at eye level with Severus' knees. Severus swung round to face Sirius, whose legs were still dancing uncontrollably, "Finite."

The moment his legs had stilled Sirius pointed his wand at the miniature Potter, "Avis!" A flock of large ravens erupted from Sirius' wand and immediately began attacking Potter, who was feebly trying to repel them, however as it seemed that the size of his spells had shrunk with him, he wasn't having much luck. Severus sniggered slightly, then, recognising the fact that they were now almost late for Transfiguration, raised his wand.

"Expelliarmus! Locomotor Mortis." James Potter's legs snapped together at the same instant his wand flew into Severus' hand. Potter, now utterly helpless, watched with a horrified expression as his wand sailed from Severus' hand onto the owlery roof.

"Bye!" Sirius' sarcastically cheerful word hung in the air as the two boys jogged down the corridor towards the Transfiguration classroom.

Professor McGonagall began their lesson with a stern lecture, which Sirius thought sounded as though she had said the exact same words every single year, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back, you have been warned."

Severus leaned across to Sirius, "She wouldn't dare chuck anyone out, I would say she's more afraid of what we could do only half trained." Sirius only smirked in response.

Transfiguration turned out to be far less interesting than Sirius thought it would be. Although he had never done the type of magic they began with, his mother's lessons made turning a matchstick into a needle ridiculously simplistic and by the end of the lesson he had a large pile of perfectly formed needles on his desk.

After Transfiguration came Potions, taught by the Head of Slytherin, Professor Malfoy. Sirius had met Esmerelda Malfoy on a number of occasions, although he was better acquainted with her son, Lucius, who was four years above Sirius. Professor Malfoy gave off an aura of absolute power and control as she strode into the room, wearing robes of a deep bottle-green, trimmed with silver. The entire room fell silent, Slytherins out of respect for their teacher, Gryffindors, most likely, out of pure terror. This last thought made Sirius smirk.

She cast her eyes over the room, "It seems we are missing a Gryffindor," she said, "Where is Mr Potter?" Sirius was fighting so hard not to laugh that he had to knock his books to the floor so as to hide his face. The other Gryffindor students were frozen in abject terror, Potter's sickly looking tag-along raised one shaking hand into the air,

"Yes Mr -?" Professor Malfoy snapped sharply.

"Lupin, Professor, Remus Lupin," Shockingly for one so shabby, Lupin was very well spoken. Sirius had always been brought up knowing that if you were shabby and poor, or a blood traitor, like Matrim Avery and Alfie Wilkes, or a Weasley, then you had no understanding of behaviour in proper society, "He went to send an owl to his parents after breakfast, he must have got lost."

"Indeed. Well perhaps, Mr Lupin, you would be so kind as to inform Mr Potter that I do not accept less than one-hundred percent commitment from my students, and that he has just lost Gryffindor house twenty points, which I believe makes that thirty in two days."

Severus smirked.

They spent the first half of the lesson taking notes on basic potion theory, which both Sirius and Severus found rather peculiar, as this was something they had been expected to know from a very young age, and neither of them could understand why anyone else would not have the same knowledge. Unless they were a Mudblood, in which case there was really no hope. However when Sirius questioned Professor Malfoy on this matter, she gave him a sharp look and responded, "It is merely following syllabus, Mr Black. I do not like it anymore than you, however the _Headmaster_ thinks that it is important to teach you all the basics."

"Waste of bloody time if you ask me." Severus muttered under his breath as Professor Malfoy moved on.

Just under half way through the lesson, Professor Malfoy ordered the class to put away their quills and parchment, and gave them instructions for a simple potion to cure boils.

Sirius was just lighting the flames beneath his cauldron when the door to the classroom banged open, causing him to jump and set his textbook alight instead. He hurriedly doused the flames with a jet of water from his wand.

A bedraggled looking Potter stood in the doorway, now returned to normal size, holding his wand in his hand. Ignoring the stares from his classmates he strode up to Professor Malfoy with an air of complete arrogance, "I apologise for being so late Professor," his drawl could have placed him in Slytherin if it wasn't for the fact he was a Potter, and every inch a Gryffindor, "I was, however, attacked on the way out of the owlery this morning by two of your students." He smirked slightly in the direction of Sirius and Severus, both of whom were looking completely nonplussed.

At Potter's words outraged murmurs had instantly erupted from the Gryffindors on the left hand side of the room, all of them turning and glaring murderously at the Slytherins.

"Silence." At Professor Malfoy's words the Gryffindor's murmuring ceased instantly, their glares did not.

"Mr Potter, ten points from Gryffindor and detention for disturbing my class."

"but-" Potter looked positively shocked, he had clearly expected some sort of support from the Potions Professor.

"If you are unable to defend yourself against your fellow students, Mr Potter," said Professor Malfoy with a slight sneer, "then you will never learn to defend yourself in the real world. Take your seat."

Potter hesitated.

"Now!"

He sat down swiftly beside Lupin.

"Continue with your Potions." Professor Malfoy swept back to her desk, where she spent the rest of the lesson watching the painful progress of the Potions simmering on the benches, making the occasional derisive comment about the abysmal results the Gryffindors came up with. Naturally both Sirius and Severus' Potions were perfect.

Charms was a different experience altogether, although Sirius had been told that Professor Flitwick was head of Ravenclaw house, he seemed to have some trouble picturing the tiny little man as anything other than what was unmistakeably a half-breed. No natural human could ever be that short, and half-breeds were not intelligent. He gave them a short demonstration of basic charms, levitation and the like, before demonstrating some rather more complex charm work on the mudblood girl, causing her to flash purple and pink for the rest of the lesson.

Defence against the Dark Arts came after lunch, and was not nearly as good as Sirius had expected, not least because it was taught by a Weasley although he did find the discussion on classification of the dark arts mildly interesting, and decided that he might be able to overlook the fact that it was taught by a blood traitor. He did not mention this to Severus.

Their final lesson of the day was History of Magic, taught by Professor Binns, a very elderly man who Sirius would not have been surprised to see drop dead any second. His lecture was so utterly boring that within five minutes Sirius and Severus had crafted paper swords with their parchment and were locked in an epic battle.

Dinner that night was an excitable affair, with all the first years comparing notes on how their first day had gone, and engaging in light banter about Quidditch and Gryffindor idiocy. Sirius overheard two fourth years planning to sneak into professor McGonagall's rooms and dye her hair bright Slytherin green, with streaks of silver, because she had taken twenty points from Slytherin for transfiguring a Gryffindor student into a rat. Sirius couldn't really understand why they were so bitter about it, he understood that the victim was a Gryffindor, and so the act of transfiguration entirely excusable, they had done it right under McGonagall's nose. He had always thought that if you are going to do such a thing, you should at least be prepared to take the consequences if you are stupid enough to get yourself caught. One of his mother's earliest lessons was that subtlety is crucial, if you allow yourself to be caught then you deserve to be a Gryffindor.

After dinner, when all the Slytherins had traipsed back to the common room, or disappeared into the library to complete some highly complex homework set by a particularly cruel teacher, Sirius and Severus sat down on one of the green sofas opposite the fire. For several minutes both sat, gazing intently at the flames, crackling in the large, stone fireplace. Severus was the first to break the silence.

"You were quiet today at dinner," He commented, "when we were discussing how best to torture the blood traitor who tries to teach us Defence."

Sirius barely faltered, "I was merely contemplating the fact that if it were not taught by a blood traitor, it might be a half-decent subject."

"So you're not going to jump up defending Weasley are you?" Severus' tone became slightly mocking.

Sirius shuddered, "oh Merlin, no!"

Severus sniggered, "You are so squeamish!"

"Am not!"

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**So you see that little button that says review...smiles sweetly You know you want to...:D**

**Thanks to all who reviewed the prologue (all 3 of you :D) Yes they were Lily and Petunia – I know, really very obvious!!**

**silverpheonix2 – **_Thanx! :D here is chapter one...which I hope you like also..._

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**See you all next chapter!! (which will be sooner...honest!)**


	3. Visits and Letters

**Erm…Oops…ducks MeQuote "**I do not intend to be one of those annoying writers who keeps you in suspense for months at a time!!**" well so much for that eh???!!! Am very sorry…will try to do better next time. Really. Hope you enjoy :)**

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Crucio Butterfly - Chapter 2

Before the end of the second week Peter had managed to melt three cauldrons in Potions class, despite the fact that they had only had two lessons. Neither Sirius nor Severus could understand how it was possible to make a Happiness Potion explode. Despite his truly abysmal performance in that particular class, Peter managed not to loose Slytherin any house points, Professor Malfoy was quite understanding, telling him that "Potions is a highly refined art and takes time to develop." She then proceeded to dock Gryffindor 20 points because Potter's potion was not precisely the right shade of crimson required. Sirius and Severus avoided looking at each other for several minutes.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had almost instantly become Sirius' favourite and best subject, a matter which he was incredibly ashamed about, and kept very well hidden. He could pass off his excellence in Defence as a result of his Mother's lessons, most upper class families taught their students what was often called the dark arts from a very young age, and so defence of it should follow naturally. After a basic introduction, covering classification of the dark arts, and it's history, the first year Slytherins then began to study basic dark spells and how to counter them. Professor Weasley set the class a particularly complex essay on correct duelling conduct, and what action should be taken if your opponent disobeys these rules. Severus said he was sorely tempted to write "Cast the killing curse on them".

Post on Saturday morning brought a letter from Sirius' mother, as well as a parcel containing a book on the political origins of the classification of the unforgivable curses and why it was all pointless. Sirius stared in shock at the huge book in his hands; he had enough to be worrying about without his mother continuing with her lessons as well. Hesitantly he tore open the envelope.

Dear Son,

I am, of course, delighted that you have upheld the family honour by being sorted into Slytherin. I am also confidant that you will make connections with the right people and extend your knowledge of, what you so correctly named, the noble arts.

I am completely unsurprised that the Gryffindor students are exceedingly arrogant, they were like that in my day, and I suspect they will be like that forever.

I have enclosed some supplementary reading for you and expect your next correspondence to contain a full analysis of said reading, including your opinions on what the author has written.

Best wishes, and remember what I taught you about getting caught.

Mother.

Sirius stared at the book in utter horror, then flipped hurriedly to the back page; the little number in the corner seemed to dance before his eyes, taunting him, 3582. This would take him weeks to read, and that was without even beginning to account for the amount of homework he had.

"Just tell her you can't." Severus was leaning over his shoulder.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, "One does not tell Ivy Black that you cannot comply with her wishes."

"What can she do though? Except possibly send you a howler, which she won't do."

"You really don't know my mother do you?" answered Sirius.

"No, I don't," replied Severus thoughtfully, "but I know mine, and I was also brought up in an upper-class society. She won't send you a howler because it will reveal that she is trying to teach you, what _they_ name the dark arts, and she won't want to be discredited in society."

Sirius suddenly felt rather stupid for not having thought this up before.

Ivy Black was sat, reading in the drawing room as the doorbell at number 12 Grimmauld Place rang loudly, echoing through the neat, dark hallways. She distantly heard one of the house elves open the door to greet the visitor, and sincerely hoped they were told, politely of course, that the lady of the house was busy. Seconds later, however there was a load crack and Mindy appeared in the drawing room.

"Mistress," she dropped a hasty curtsy, "There is man downstairs who names himself

Lord Voldemort, he is a friend of the Malfoy family."

"Lord Voldemort? I have heard nothing of any lord who carries the name Voldemort. You should have known better than to disturb my private reading time, Mindy."

Mindy looked petrified, "Forgive me, Mistress, but he requested immediate audience with the lady of the house, he awaits you in the study."

Heaving a defeated sigh, Ivy marked her place in the book she was reading and trudged down a single flight of stairs to the study.

She did not immediately see his face, for he was standing in front of a particularly vile portrait of Ivy's recently deceased mother-in-law. Ivy cleared her throat, "You requested a meeting, My Lord?" She kept her voice deliberately icy, using a tone that would have most visitors running for the door. Lord Voldemort, however merely turned to face her, raised one eyebrow slightly and took a seat on the carved mahogany desk beneath the window.

"That is correct, Ma'am, I do apologise for any intrusion." His voice had an almost silky, snake-like quality to it, but Ivy's opinion of this lord was slightly raised by the fact that he addressed her as 'Ma'am', "You do not recognise me, I expect, I believe you were a third year Slytherin when I first attended Hogwarts."

Ivy racked her brain for some distant recollection of a student by the name of Voldemort. When none was forthcoming she said, "Are you certain you have the right person, My Lord? I do not recall anyone by your name, and it is unusual enough that I would remember."

Lord Voldemort smiled, a slight, calculating smirk, "I did not carry this name through school, Ma'am, in fact my entire identity was kept hidden for fear it would attract too much attention. I went by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"The half-blood orphan boy," Ivy was filled with a sudden rush of memory, "Fifth year prefect, the year I was Head Girl. You have changed much since then."

"Indeed." He answered, a slight trace of irony in his voice. "I have come today for political reasons. From what I have heard, you are likely to be, shall we say, sympathetic, to my cause."

"Your cause?" Ivy was mildly intrigued now.

"One hundred and fifty years ago our society was ruled as it had been for centuries, the great noble houses held absolute influence over the Ministry, Family pride was everything, and the Wizarding world prospered. We developed some of the greatest architectural works the world has ever seen, arts and culture was developed and refined, we were the world, and the muggles and mudbloods knew nothing of it. Society worked then, in a way it would never work now."

"So what happened?"

"One hundred and fifty years ago, a child was born from a union of wizard and muggle. This half-blood child was named Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Comprehension dawned on Ivy's face. Lord Voldemort smiled slightly before continuing.

"He claimed his father, a muggle lawyer from London, was of magical origin, and that the lawyer, Brian Dumbledore, was simply his stepfather. It was this act of shocking deceit that lead to Albus Dumbledore becoming the first impure child to attend Hogwarts. I do not pretend that he was not talented, he was the most powerful wizard Hogwarts had seen since my great-grandfather Thesenius Slytherin, but when he left, he managed to worm himself onto the governors board, lying and deceiving his way through life. It was he who altered the decree which stated that no child of completely pure blood could enter Hogwarts. From that point, as the magical world became diluted, the mudbloods fought against our world, destroying it."

Ivy stared at the man before her, trying to absorb this new information, "I was always taught that his exceptional magical ability meant he was accepted into Hogwarts by the governors, and subsequently persuaded them that if he could do it then other children with muggle ancestry could also."

"History lies, my dear Ivy, nothing is ever as it seems."

"Is any of it true, about Dumbledore? Did he do any of the things he is credited for?"

"That depends on the crediting. He murdered my uncle in cold blood, and yet was hailed as a hero. My uncle was named Grindeliarnos Thanwald, they called him Grindlewald, he was murdered because he stood up for what he believed in, in our democratic society he was murdered for speaking his thoughts."

"That's awful, how can anyone do such a thing?"

"Quite easily it would seem. When he died I was no more than a child, I swore to continue what he started, I swore I would have vengeance on those who took away my last living relative."

"your last…?"

"I never lied about being an orphan, how could I pretend such a thing? I kept hidden my true identity because it linked me to closely to the great Salazar Slytherin. My mother was the last to carry his name."

"So you wish to return the world to its former glory?"

"I will give back the wizard world to those who should rightfully own it, of whom you are one. Trust in me Ivy, would you not see a world that carries wonder and beauty not seen since the days of our long-dead ancestors?"

"Of course I would, but… you really think it can be done?"

"Naturally, or I would not have come to you. For my plan to work I need others to aid me. Think on it Ivy, do not let an opportunity pass you by. Owls addressed to Tom Riddle will still find me, I do not trust many with the knowledge of my true identity."

Lord Voldemort swept out of the room leaving a confused and shaken Ivy Black in his wake.

_My Lord Voldemort,_

_Further to your visit of three days ago, I am writing to inform you that I am most certainly interested in helping to further your campaign. I felt nothing but sympathy relating to the death of your uncle, and understand your need to fulfil your vow for vengeance. I too would so greatly like to see a world restored to full glory._

_Although much of what you told me contradicted what I had been taught as a child, I am quite aware that sometimes what we are taught is not always accurate. I know I have altered events to a certain degree when educating my own children. I am quite prepared to take what you explained to me as truth, and thus am more than happy to join your cause._

_I look forward to hearing from you soon._

_Ivy Black. _

_Dearest Mother,_

_Please accept my deepest apologies that I may take considerable time to fulfil your requirements regarding _'Why the classification of the unforgiveables is unforgivable'_. I am, naturally, required to complete a large amount of homework, and finding time to analyse such a text may prove to be detrimental to my education. If you still require my reading of this text at the present moment, I will, of course attempt to do so._

_Hope you are all well._

_Sirius._

_Dearest Ivy,_

_I am delighted by your interest in my campaign and look forward to working with you. _

_I must stress though that entry into my service does not come lightly. Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at 7pm on September 17th. Come well disguised, it would not do to have my best warrior caught before she is even initiated._

_Lord Voldemort._

It was nearly seven when the black-clothed old witch hobbled into The Leaky Cauldron, her face was hidden by a long black veil and her dress was somewhat moth-eaten around the hem. All in all she did not give off a particularly inviting aura. This, of course, was precisely what Ivy Black meant to do, as Lord Voldemort had said, it would not do if she was caught. She glanced nervously at the clock near the bar, three minutes to seven.

"Can I help you ma'am?" The barman approached her from the other side of the room. Ivy thought it best to order a drink and sit down with it to wait so as not to draw undue attention to herself.

"Double firewhiskey please," she said, her voice hoarse, "Keep the change." She moved away into a shadowy corner to await Lord Voldemort. One minute to seven.

Fifteen minutes and four firewhiskeys later a short, stooping old man entered the bar. His hair was matted and greasy and his clothes appeared as though they had not been washed in centuries. Ivy could smell him from her dark shadowy corner. She cringed when he approached her.

"Ivy?" She nodded sharply, attempting to breath through her mouth. The man spoke again, his breath reeked of garlic, "You must come with me, now." Without another word he turned and left the bar. Ivy saw several wizards give a relieved sigh as the smell went with him, she rose from her table and followed him into the cold September air.

"Entry into my service does not come lightly once you belong to me there can be no turning back. I will ask you three times if you wish to continue, if you say no you will be released and nothing further will be said. If you say yes after the third time there can be now turning back. Do you understand me?"

Shaking slightly, Ivy nodded, "I hear you, I understand you."

"As a member of my force you will look to me as leader, you will address me as master. I make the rules by which you live, none other have any relevance to your life. Is this clear?"

Once again Ivy nodded. She could feel the cold marble of the gravestone next to her; Tom Riddle.

"Good." Lord Voldemort's voice seemed to echo in her head, cold and snake-like.

"Do you wish to enter into my service?" The first question. Although fear coursed through her veins Ivy was in no doubt of her answer.

"Yes."

"Do you wish to enter into my service?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish to enter into my service?" Her final chance, the final choice.

"Yes!"

Lord Voldemort withdrew his wand and placed it against the cool, pale skin of Ivy's left forearm. She did not later recall the exact incantation he spoke, though she knew it was long. A white hot poker seared through her whole body and she screamed.

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So once again…that is it… now you see that little button… snapesmirk 

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